


Never Been Easy

by Death2Toby



Category: Letterkenny (TV)
Genre: Getting Together, Pining, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-23 06:11:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21315487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Death2Toby/pseuds/Death2Toby
Summary: **SEASON 7 SPOILERS AHEAD***Darry has loved Wayne for a long fucking time. It's never been easy.
Relationships: Daryl/Wayne (Letterkenny)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 134





	Never Been Easy

In a town like Letterkenny, it’s not a feat to know someone pert near your whole life. Everyone knows everyone else, and as they say, bad gas travels fast in a small town. The rarity, then, is not the Darry and Wayne have known each other since they were knee-high, it’s that in all those years they’ve never had a fight. Not a one. 

But it hasn’t exactly been sunshine and rainbows. Because Darry has a secret. It’s old, like it’s carved into his bones, like if he speaks it he’ll crumble to pieces. So he holds his tongue, and that’s never been easy. In fact, it’d only gotten harder, as they’d grown, and Darry had to watch Wayne drift further and further away from him. 

It’s never easy when a friend gets hurt, and Wayne’s been hurt more’n most. The same could be said of Darry, maybe, but Darry wasn’t in the habit of thinking about himself. Darry is quiet. Not like Wayne is, granted. But he don’t say anything without thinking about it and he spends an awful lot of time thinking about words he’ll never say out loud. Comforts, confessions, promises. He dreams ‘em up, has for years. Sometimes he thinks he could just live in that fantasy land. It’d be easier. 

Easier than fighting the urge to take a step closer to his friend, who’s standing before him in the kitchen, staring at the floor. Easier that swallowing down his vows that he would treat wayne the way he deserves, never hurt him, never want nobody else. 

The most Darry can muster is to stand stock still in the doorway. Wayne’s facing the counter, a shot glass in hand, empty for now but the Gus’n’Bru’s nearby. His shoulders move almost imperceptibly with shallow breaths. To anyone else, he’d look normal, Darry figures. But Darry feels like if he poked him he’d shatter into a billion pieces. 

“Take a fuckin’ picture it’ll last longer, Jesus Christ,” Wayne snaps, trailing off toward the end.

Darry jumps at the outburst, but recovers quickly. He decides not to try explaining himself, knowing it’d fall on deaf ears. “How’re ya now?” he asks instead, expecting the same answer he always gets. 

Instead, Wayne says nothing. He’s just quiet for a while. Eventually he pours another shot. 

This is unfamiliar territory, that’s for damn sure, and it doesn’t help Darry with his urge to at the very least place a reassuring hand on Wayne’s shoulder, which he knows would be unwelcome. But the quiet and space between them makes it a hard urge to resist. 

Wayne finally turns around, offering a scowl and that’s familiar at least. But there’s an edge to it that Darry’s never seen. It makes him angry, to see his best bud hurting this way, to know he can’t help. With Angie they’d seen it comin’ but fuck, Marie-Fred seemed like the best gal Wayne’d ever find and as much as it hurt to think of Wayne holding her and kissing her, he could at least take solace in the fact that she’d treat him right. So much for that. 

Finally, Wayne grabs another shot glass and pours them a round. They knock it back, double tap, and for the moment Darry feels normal again. There’s so much he wants to say. There’s always so much he wants to say. But this is what he gets, just Gus’n’Bru like always and it’ll have to be enough. He only hopes his presence is reassuring at least. 

This air between them, though, it feels different. Stagnant and still. Fuck, it’s never been easy working through this kinda shit but it’s never been this hard. For a moment, Darry wonders where in the hell Katy and Squrirelly Dan got off to. 

Around here, you don’t talk about your problems. You don’t piss and moan, you either fix it or shut the fuck up, and Darry’s had to get pretty damn good at the latter. He has fucking dreams at night of all the things he wants to say to Wayne, and to the people Wayne had loved who foolishly gave him up. Like he wasn’t the only thing Darry good think about every goddamn minute of every goddamn day. Like he wasn’t the one lifting the sun and trading it for the moon. Darry’s nothing without Wayne, and that’s exactly why and how he keeps his feelings to himself, because speaking them into the world meant losing Wayne forever.

Eventually, Wayne gives in to the booze, his tongue gets a little looser. 

“I just don’t know if it’s worth tryin’ anymore…” 

And fuck if that isn’t a punch in the gut, really. “Wayne, I mean…” Darry trails off. He wants to say c’mon, you’ll find another, gotta get back on the horse sometime, and all that. He wants to, but he can’t, because he’s pretty sure he’ll actually say something a whole helluva lot worse if he dares open his mouth. He’s saved when Wayne speaks again. 

“Don’t, Darry. I ain’t askin’ for a pity party. It’s just fuckin’ statistics at this point, fuck.” 

“Love ain’t statistics, Wayne,” Darry replies, matter-of-fact and companionable like any of their millions of produce stand talks. But this is dangerous ground. 

“The fuck do you know about it, Darry?”

Darry suddenly feels like he can’t breath, and hopes it isn’t showing on his face. He wants to retort, defend himself, maybe tell Wayne to shove it up his ass, but he can’t speak. That’s a low blow, real fucking low. And in his mind Darry justifies it. Wayne’s just taking his own feelings out on Darry, he doesn’t mean it… right? And maybe it’s stupid but Darry half expects an apology right then and there, but he doesn’t get one. 

Darry has known what it means to love someone for a long fucking time. Darry has loved Wayne selflessly, unconditionally, quiet to the world but loud and echoing inside him, rattling off his bones. Darry suffers in silence, taking the barest moments and living off of them, occasionally finding some peace in the company of strangers. For Darry, loving is like breathing, and he can scarcely separate the two. But he can’t say that out loud, so sure, let Wayne think Darry knows nothing about love or pain or loss. 

“Wayne, there’s people out there who wouldn’t do this to ya,” Darry finally says, standing to leave before he says something stupid. Wayne stands too. 

“Well fuck, Darry, maybe I’m just tired of lookin’.” 

_I’m right in front of you_, Darry wants to say, but can’t. Partially because he never could, and more so because Wayne has stepped forward, closing the space between them. The scent of him fills Darry’s nostrils, his heart jumping up into his throat. Suddenly nothing else exists, and Darry can’t form words or rational fucking thoughts but he can do something. He leans forward, shifting his weight onto his toes, reaching for the barest brush of their lips together, because that’s the only thing that makes sense, right? Or maybe it’s a terrible mistake, and he’ll have to leave town and never show his face again, fuck. All of that floods through him as he comes back down, waiting to see what Wayne will do next. 

Wayne wears a contemplative scowl, blinks, and goes back in after the slightest curve of his lips, pulling Darry closer to him, kissing him full and warm and perfect, and suddenly, fuck, life’s never been easier.


End file.
